Chapter 740 - 19: Three Ups and Downs! Dream Fulfilled in Warsaw!! Lifting the Champion’s Trophy on a Rainy Night!!

The feeling of release also surfaced in each of their hearts. Although they firmly controlled the initiative, this match was indeed too tough to play; the grievances were truly too many.

Everything’s back!

The Bullfighter Army won’t lose!

"Vamos...!!" Ramos and Brother Pique leaned back against each other, gesturing to the Spain fans in the stands who were wildly swinging their arms, while other players hugged each other behind them.

In the distance, Bosque and an assistant coach knelt on the ground with their hands pointed skyward in celebration.

"Spain! With a brilliant header to equalize dramatically!! This goal won’t come as a surprise to anyone; they definitely deserved to score!

"France’s defense line became increasingly lax towards the end due to a decline in physical ability, some of their players found it difficult even to stand, needing to support themselves with alternating feet to keep their bodies steady.

"Two to two! The score’s been rewritten again, what a spectacular championship match!

"If the game ends like this, it will go into a thrilling penalty shootout!

"At that time, I believe that Spain, with more experience in major finals and a better goalkeeper, will have the upper hand!

"Of course, they always had the upper hand; if it weren’t for Ma’el’s unanswerable world-waver, they might already be celebrating in the locker room by now!"

"....."

On the sidelines, Deschamps suddenly felt an itch on his scalp, scratching his temples with both hands, his face gradually reddening.

The assistant coaches and substitute players behind him sat back down, each with a liver-colored face, as the air inhaled into their nostrils seemed tainted with more tension and gravity.

Ma’el was right in front of the celebrating team, feeling clearly, amidst sadness, the joy of the Bullfighter Army, witnessing their wild celebration right before his eyes, much like how they had seen him not long ago.

He had undoubtedly done everything already, and his teammates fought with all their might. Since they ultimately couldn’t win in the normal play, then let’s go ahead, let’s have the penalty shootout!

"Fack...!" A scream echoed nearby, and he turned to see Koscielny lying on the ground, clutching the back of his thigh, shouting in pain.

He quickly went over to lift the leg, hoping to alleviate the pain by straightening it, but was waved off.

"It’s not a cramp."

After Koscielny said that, two streams of tears uncontrollably fell down.

It wasn’t from pain, he definitely wasn’t a coward, just that he knew he had to leave the field now, "it’s a strain, the old injury here has recurred."

Ma’el was stunned, watching the team doctors rush onto the field, twisting his two index fingers to signal Deschamps to make a substitution.

As soon as he made the gesture, he froze in place. The team had already used up their substitutions.

That means, if Koscielny can’t continue, they will have to fight one player short!

Misfortunes never come singly!

A minute later, after being examined by the team doctor, Koscielny was carried off the field, and France’s situation worsened, while their opponents saw hope for another goal.

Ma’el stood there with hands on his hips, his gloomy face suddenly breaking into a smile, gazing with pride at his teammates still on the field ready to continue battling.

Spain won’t be defeated by adversity; neither will they!

Faced with worthy opponents, they too demonstrated resilience and determination... Both teams at their peak collision for the championship, whichever secures the final victory deserves admiration!

Participating on such a stage, being one of them, he felt proud of himself.

Come on, let the fierce wind lift their sleeves, leaving them bare on the turf; let the torrential rain drench their bodies, adding fuel to the fire in their hearts!

As long as they stand here, they will fight to the last!

"Beep!"

After kickoff, every fan stood up, and everyone on the benches of both teams stood at the sidelines as if they were coaches themselves, anxiously gesturing and yelling.

The two teams were merciless, clashing like primitive men.

In the VIP box, the atmosphere was more oppressive than inside the stadium.

Everyone here supported the France team or Ma’el; there was none of the indomitable joy of Spain fans, only lament for the team and player’s difficult situation.

Most believed time should pass quickly, letting the 10-man France team enter the penalty shootout early; even if they lose then, they can accept it.

"Can we hold up?" Michel always cared deeply for the team and dared to ask, "Should Giroud be used as a center-back now, he has to fall back deeply."

"I don’t know."

Wenger was a bit perplexed himself, watching Spain reclaim possession quickly again, shaking his head, "Giroud can’t fall back; if he does, without a point to reach, Spain will completely come over, then it’s even harder to play.

"Moreover, keeping him in front field to support, France might still... still have a chance to counterattack and score."

When he spoke the last sentence, he clearly lacked confidence. With the current mess, it’s hard to imagine France could turn and score against Spain.

"Alas....."

"It’s a nerve-wracking match, emotions constantly rising and falling, following the flow of the game."

"Yeah, my heart is still racing, completely drawn into the match."